Empty Spiral
by desomondo
Summary: A glimpse into a world where Brigitte has succumbed to the temptations of the wolf. One Shot -- may expand in the future.


Ginger Snaps - Empty Spiral 

Each night always began with a choice. Brigitte tried to tell herself that it was beyond her control, a rising volcano, an earthquake deep within that she was powerless to stop. Her sister, Ginger would tell her that it was destiny descending upon them with a smile, a fate that burned and blinded them like the sun rising from its ocean grave each day. But it was still a lie. Before every action there was always a choice, a conscious decision. And she had already made hers.

Dimmed candlelight had drenched the small room in a blood filled aura, the colour sticking to every surface, to every exposed inch of flesh. Skin rippled and slithered across itself as two bodies attempted to become one, their shapes of red and black writhing upon one another. Twin sets of lips left their wet, sticky marks upon each other as pairs of hands explored each others form thoroughly, caressing what could not be seen, relaying pleasures that could never be experienced by the eyes alone.

From her sanctuary of shadows, nestled within a nearby corner, Brigitte watched and waited. It wouldn't be long now. She had witnessed this physical display many times before, every night in fact since her new life had begun. It always played out the same way, the kissing, and the touching, the light smacking sounds of sweat drenched bodies and the moans that escaped them. She sat there, wrapped within her own arms transfixed upon the shapes on the bed before her. And she'd not dare look away. The desires building within her, the impending rush of excitement would not allow it.

She knew not to enact upon them, to interfere. Not yet anyway. This was her show for now, the girl upon the bed, her dear sister Ginger, currently embraced by _his_ arms. A stranger, a random nobody selected just for this night. And the shadow girl hated it. The glowing beauty in the candlelight was not his to hold, not his to kiss, not his to wrap around like a sheet and drape upon himself. Who did he think he was? Or what he was? Did he even have a clue? Of course not Brigitte told herself. No one in their right mind would be here otherwise. Not even at the beckoning call of flesh.

No, he was completely clueless, and she silently thanked the dancing shadows for obscuring his face along with the rest of his features, let her anger be stirred by the sight of him. He was not the one she was focusing upon anyway. It was her, the fiery goddess who straddled him from above. She alone was exposed by the little light that remained, her flawless, curvaceous body unbound by darkness and clothing alike. Her skin glistened, her hair, as red as the tiny flame burning nearby on its waxed wick, dangled across the full features of her face. Her ample breasts heaved as she exhaled, rapid and forceful as she rode the waves of pleasure emanating from her hips.

It was almost over now and Brigitte's silhouette shuffled with anticipation. Gathered upon all fours she slowly crawled out from her darkened refuge and into the faint glow, her pale skin decorating itself in goose bumps as the impending rush began to build inside her. Strands of hair as dark as the shadows she emerged from were swept away from her inquisitive eyes, their fierce golden irises pulsating with energy. If only he had pried his own gaze from the naked form above him, he might have seen them emanating in the darkness, like a stalking panther.

At the base of the bed Brigitte waited, her last threads of will fighting back her swelling urges. From there she gazed up with a pleading dog like stare, silently screaming for her sibling's permission to begin. And she so desperately wanted to. This was her choice, her conscious decision. From high above Ginger gasped in delight, her crystal blue eyes unsheathing from their fleshy cocoons, instantly connecting with their yellow counterparts below, now as bright as lanterns. Brigitte knew it was imminent for it was always the same, each and every night.

First it was the desire of flesh, the merging of bodies, that deep feeling yearning from her sister's loins. It cried out for contact, for friction, for deep penetrating relief. But then another desire would arise, one of even deeper origins. Born from her very blood it would pulsate through her veins like liquid fire, hotter than any furnace in her body. It could not be stopped, it could not be quelled, and it was everything that Brigitte now wanted. Every maddening minute she spent watching them would soon be forgotten, flooded by a sea of unimaginable ecstasy.

And now that time was upon her this night. The fire had already spread into Ginger's brain, an intoxicating addiction that now needed to be satiated. It blazed across her face, her damp cheeks rippling in its wake. It seeped into her lips, an infernal halo that descended into her mouth as an invisible firestorm, before it finally settled. It scalded her tongue, fusing into her jaws, a heating iron pressing against the twin fangs she now withdrew from her quivering lips. Caught within his own approaching euphoria, the man trapped between her thighs never saw it coming.

She lunged down upon him bringing her teeth to bare, tearing through his jugular in a bloody rapture. Blood exploded into her jaws, drenching her insides as is slid down her thirsty gullet. Before he could even scream Ginger tore through the rest of his throat with a second, equally gory bite. He never felt anything else, his body slipping into blissful shock before the second set of jaws had set upon him. A second torrent of blood spilled onto the sweat soaked bed as Brigitte ripped through his shoulder, tearing out chunks of dripping meat in a series of frenzied mouthfuls.

Drunk from the kill, Brigitte opened her moonlit eyes to watch her blood stained sister still feasting across from her. She had already moved onto the other shoulder, bones and cartilage cracking between her teeth as she dug deeper into her warm meal of flesh and blood. Locked in awe at the ferocity of her flame touch sister, she found herself reaching out with a longing hand, sinking her fingers beneath the embers of Ginger's curls. She entwined them within the auburn stands, lovingly caressing her scalp, waiting impatiently for Ginger's delicate reply.

A week ago Brigitte would have been disgusted at the very thought of their morbid embrace, the sight of it, the smell of it, staring across at it in unwavering horror. But this was another day, and the shame had long since gone. She had bathed her once high held principles, her very conscience in a crimson sea five times over, expelling it to the melodies of fading heartbeats. Still, even as the candle burned out on her latest victim, she found it hard to believe that she had let it go away.


End file.
